Fire & Ice
by Jen Kollic
Summary: So, what exactly is Morgan LeFlay's backstory, and how did she become a Mighty Pirate Hunter? We get a lot of vague details in 'Lair of the Leviathan', but how to put them all together is anyone's guess...
1. Chapter 1: The Sands Of Melee

**Fire & Ice  
**

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I'm taking vast liberties with Jugbender and Dante Dragotta.

**Notes:** After playing through _Tales of Monkey Island_ again, I found myself wondering exactly what Morgan's background is. The details we get, mostly in _Lair of the Leviathan_, are all very vague. So I started speculating about how these details might slot together, got innundated with plotbunnies and the result is this fanfic. Though I would still really like to see an official Telltale backstory for Morgan, either in the form of a spinoff game, written prose, or a comic by Steve Purcell. (plz Telltale?)

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback.

**Spoilers:** Some spoilers for a puzzle in _Lair of the Leviathan_, otherwise none.

* * *

Chapter 1 - The Sands of Melee

_...clawing myself from the icy ice-cold grasp of the merciless ocean. Though exhausted by my struggle with the very gods of the sea itself, I refused to surrender myself to its chill embrace, my fingers sinking deeply into the wet sand of this as yet unknown island and proving to be a more effective anchor than the one that had failed my ship and led to its destruction on the rocks. No, I would not give up now, not now when sweet land was beneath my saturated body and working its way under my cracked fingernails. Could this truly be Melee Island, or had fate played yet another cruel trick upon me? Perhaps instead of finding the pirate elders I would discover nothing more than a tribe of ravenous cannibals or vicious three-headed apes. But whatever fate saw fit to throw at me, I knew that I, Guybrush Threepwood, would fight on regardless until I had achieved my dream and become..._

"Morgan!" The call momentarily broke the girl's concentration on her book, but for now she ignored it and continued reading.

_...the mightiest pirate ever to sail the seven seas. Little did I know that within a day I would have defeated the Swordmaster, discovered the legendary lost treasure of Melee Island, stolen the fabulous Idol of Many Hands and met the woman of my dreams, Governor Elaine Marley. But most awesome and terrible of all would be my confrontation with the dreaded Ghost Pirate LeChuck, a confrontation that would decide the fate of the Caribbean and become a legend to rival that of Monkey Island itself. But first..._

"MORGAN!" It was clear that feigned deafness wasn't going to work this time, and with an irritated sigh the girl closed _The Time I Blew Up LeChuck _with an audible snap and set it down on the bedside table. She'd already read it three times over the four years since it had been published, generally about once a year, but she had never grown tired of it.

"I heard you the first time!" Morgan shouted as she sat up and swung herself off her bed, stretching as she stood. No doubt her uncle wanted her to walk Gomez, or help get the bar ready for the evening rush, or something as equally boring and not at all as dramatic as being washed ashore on an unfamiliar island or facing LeChuck. "...yeah, Morgan LeFlay, mighty barmaid," she muttered to herself, checking her reflection in the mirror behind her bedroom door. "Sounds great."

A skinny fourteen year-old glowered back at her as she combed her fingers through her dark hair to return it to some semblance of order, but it remained stubbornly untidy. Her uncle had assured her it would stay that way until she let it grow out a bit, when he wasn't telling her it made her look like a boy anyway, and Morgan was starting to warm to the idea. After all, Elaine Marley had long hair, didn't she? Giving up for now, she opened the door and headed downstairs to the bar.

As it was only early afternoon, the bar was almost empty. There were three men sitting at one of the tables in the corner, engrossed in a game of poker, but the only other person in the bar besides Morgan's uncle was a tall man standing at the bar. Even on its busiest nights, Morgan was sure that the Staggering Sailor would never be able to compete with the Scumm Bar. Granted, the liquor policies enforced by Lucre Island's ruling council and the presence of the Hall of Justice wouldn't help with that, but in the twelve years she'd lived there Morgan could only remember a handful of bar fights, and none that had involved weapons. No dueling pirates in this establishment, even though it faced the docks.

"There you are, about time too." Standing in his usual place behind the bar, Morgan's uncle was busy polishing glasses, which on Lucre involved the use of nothing but a cloth, spit being prohibited as a cleaning aid. Nicodemus 'Jugbender' LeFlay wasn't a particularly tall man, but made up for it in width. In his youth he'd been stocky, but now that he was nearing middle age he was tending more towards portly than brawny. "There's someone I want you to meet."

"I still don't want to go to finishing school." Morgan replied stubbornly. "I know my mom went to one, but you said..."

"I know, I said you didn't have to be a lady if you didn't want to." Jugbender finished for her. "It's just lucky your mother isn't still with us, or she'd skin me alive for agreein' to that."

"Ladies don't skin people alive." Heading over to the fireplace on the far side of the room, Morgan crouched down beside the large mastiff lying in front of it and scratched his ears. "Do they Gomez?" The dog only whined appreciatively in response, his short tail thumping against the floor.

Shaking his head slightly, Jugbender exchanged a glance with the man standing at the bar. "Aye, well they might make exceptions for people who let their daughters learn swordplay instead of needlework." He chuckled as Morgan's head snapped up attentively at the word 'swordplay'. "And yes, that is why I called you down."

"You found someone that'll teach me?" Morgan only just managed to keep the enthusiasm from her voice, telling herself that there was no point getting excited about it. Two years ago she had finally managed to talk her uncle into letting her learn how to fight, but swordsmanship wasn't one of Lucre's foremost professions and after a few months of lessons from two different tutors, Morgan had learned all they had to teach her. Her last tutor, who only taught swordplay as an addition to his day job as a bank clerk, had even specifically asked for her not to attend any more of his classes after she'd divested him of half his moustache during a practice session. She'd claimed that it had been an accident afterwards, but really she'd been trying to provoke him into being a more challenging opponent. It hadn't worked. "Will this one actually know how to fight?"

There was a moment of awkward silence at her words, which was abruptly broken as the tall man at the bar started laughing. Morgan turned to see her uncle staring at her, looking mortified. The tall man still had his back to her, but continued to laugh, slapping the bar as if he'd heard the best joke of his life.

"Well Jugbender, she has spirit, I'll say that for her." The man's voice had a strong Italian accent, and as he spoke he turned to look at Morgan appraisingly with sharp blue eyes. "Her manners could do with some work, but she certainly has spirit."

Morgan bristled at the crack about her manners, but a glance at her uncle's face told her it would be a bad idea for her to retort in kind. She was also finding the stranger's scrutiny unsettling, especially the way he looked her up and down as she got back to her feet, as if he was sizing her up for a fight. He raised his eyebrows slightly as Morgan locked gazes with him rebelliously, but didn't look away. If anything, there seemed to be faint approval in his eyes as she glared at him.

"Morgan," Jugbender's voice was sharper than usual as he spoke, and Morgan immediately turned her attention back to him, feeling slightly uncomfortable as she saw that he still seemed embarrassed as he gestured towards the stranger. "This is an old friend of mine from my adventurin' days, Dante Dragotta." As soon as she heard the name, Morgan felt her face burn as she blushed furiously, her uncle nodding with a wry smile at her reaction. "Aye, I thought you'd remember that name."

Still blushing, Morgan's gaze was now fixed firmly on her feet as she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. She certainly remembered the name Dante Dragotta from her uncle's stories of his travelling days. According to Jugbender, the man could hold off an entire pirate crew single-handed and parry a gunshot. The last time she'd heard his name mentioned had been in relation to her previous swordplay tutor, whom, also according to Jugbender, Dragotta could have beaten blindfolded with one arm tied behind his back and his legs shackled. She'd taken that to be exaggeration at the time, but now that she was confronted with the genuine article she wasn't so sure.

"Your uncle tells me that you wish to learn swordplay. And I see you wish to learn from someone who knows how to fight." Dragotta said smoothly, with no hint that he'd been offended by Morgan's earlier words. "If you are willing to learn, then I am willing to teach. And I can assure you I know how to fight," he added with a chuckle. "I'm sure your uncle can attest to that."

Jugbender snorted at those words, trying to hide a grin. "Ha! When you were on the _Daring Dragoon_ we might as well have had a special flag to announce your presence, soon as any pirates got close enough to see your face they'd turn tail before they even struck their colours."

"Well, that might be a slight exaggeration," Dragotta replied modestly. "But they certainly didn't like crossing swords with me. Can't imagine why."

"Maybe because your idea of a good response to one of their insults was to stick a blade in them?" Jugbender offered. "Though you did say that was because your English wasn't so good back then and you didn't always understand what they were saying."

"Well, they should have taken some time to enunciate more clearly." Dragotta shrugged, reaching back to pick up his tankard. "They all sound the same after a while anyway."

"Uhm..." Both men looked back at Morgan as she raised her hand as if she was still in school. "About the lessons? Can I go Uncle Jugbender?"

Putting down the glass he was polishing, Jugbender twisted the cloth in his hands with a touch of anxiety. "Of course you can... there's just a bit of a catch..."

Morgan waited for her uncle to continue, but he didn't seem inclined to finish the sentence. "Do I have to go to finishing school as well?" she asked with resignation.

"No, no, nothin' like that." Jugbender replied. "But Dante's school is on Phatt Island... it's not that far, but you would have to stay there." He looked at Morgan wistfully as he spoke, obviously not entirely happy with the prospect. "But you're a big girl now, and it's about time you saw some other islands instead of stayin' with your old uncle."

"Leave Lucre?" There had certainly been times in Morgan's life when she would have been happy to leave the relatively sedate atmosphere of Lucre Island for one of the more exciting places in the Tri-Island area, if not for a different part of the Caribbean altogether. But now that the prospect was right there in front of her, making the decision wasn't so easy. She glanced at Dragotta, who was examining his nails with studied indifference, clearly not wanting to get involved. Then with a start she noticed that he was wearing a sword; while it wasn't illegal to wear arms on Lucre, it was certainly unusual. For a few moments she imagined herself striding around Melee Island with a sword at her side, able to defeat anyone who challenged her, then remembered her uncle.

Jugbender was still watching her with the same look of wistful fondness, and Morgan felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving him. But before she could say anything, her uncle spoke first. "I know you want to go Morgan. You always said you wanted to see other islands. But wherever you go, you'll always have a home here, you know that."

Instead of replying, Morgan darted across the room and around the bar to hug her uncle tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Jugbender. I promise I'll come back and visit." For an instant her breath was cut off as Jugbender lifted her off the floor in a bear hug, then set her back down.

"I know you will lass. But..." Glancing at the clock over the fireplace, Jugbender had to repress a sigh. "...well, Dante's heading back on the ferry this afternoon. You don't have to go now if you don't want to, but if you do..."

"I'll go pack." Bouncing up onto her tiptoes, Morgan kissed his cheek, then vaulted over the bar and ran back upstairs. She might not have been washing up on a strange beach, but an adventure was an adventure regardless, even if it didn't involve ghost pirates.


	2. Chapter 2: To Seek My Destiny

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I'm still taking vast liberties with Jugbender and Dante Dragotta.

**Notes:** 'The Time I Blew Up LeChuck' is an actual book written by Guybrush that can be found in the Phatt Island library in _LeChuck's Revenge_, along with its sister titles 'Why I Blew Up LeChuck', 'Where I Blew Up LeChuck' and 'When I Blew Up LeChuck'. They're all supposedly terrible, which is hardly surprising given that they were written in what I like to refer to as Guybrush's 'total douche' phase between _Secret_ and _LeChuck's Revenge_. (hell, he's still in that phase for most of the latter game) However, the 'excerpts' from it are totally fabricated by me, as are the chapter titles which I'm also using as chapter titles for the fic itself. I like to think that it would be full of exaggeration, when it's not full of outright fabrication. For reference, the geography of the Tri-Island Area that I'm using for this fic comes from the map that can be found on the 'World of Monkey Island' Wikipedia page.

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback.

**Spoilers:** None.

* * *

Chapter 2 - To Seek My Destiny

_I knew what needed to be done. From the moment I had seen that accursed ship fade into the mist, my mind was set; I would follow it, and to hell with the consequences. Little did I know at the time how true that would be, but had I known it would have made not the slightest dint to my resolve. I was but a newly inducted pirate, but even the old sot in the Scumm Bar could see my worth as he pleaded with me to rescue the beautiful Governor Marley from the clutches of LeChuck. He had little cause to worry; my outrage at her abduction would have been enough to fire me on even without the words of love I had exchanged with the lovely Elaine upon the very docks from which I saw the ghost ship depart. No, if my destiny was to draw me on to do battle with the ghostly terror of the Caribbean, then let it come. I would meet it with sword drawn and root beer fizzling._  
**- Guybrush Threepwood: "The Time I Blew Up LeChuck"**

"So, that's your niece, eh?" Dragotta turned back towards the bar as Morgan's footsteps faded up the stairs, passing his empty tankard to Jugbender.

"Aye. She's a little headstrong maybe, but her heart's in the right place." Refilling the vessel from one of the barrels behind the bar, Jugbender handed it back to the swordsman. "Just don't let her start talking about that Threepwood feller; she can go on for hours."

"So you've told me. Though I don't remember ever hearing how you ended up with her." With a dry chuckle, Dragotta took a swig from the tankard. "I have to admit, I would never have imagined you as the fatherly type. Though I do remember you talking about running a bar when you retired..."

"Well, I wound up retirin' sooner than I'd thought. You remember my brother?" Jugbender asked, pouring himself a grog.

"The lawyer?"

"Not quite. He was a clerk for the law office here on Lucre, but he was aimin' for lawyer eventually." The bartender rolled his eyes as he continued. "I was supposed to be the banker, unfortunately our parents got disappointed on that one."

"I was about to ask," Dragotta said with a laugh, "...whether it was yourself or your brother that was the black sheep. Itinerant seafarer and lawyer, the career choices aren't exactly complimentary."

"Exactly. Anyway, my brother was settled here with his wife. Last time I saw him was at his weddin'. Always said I'd visit, never did. The usual story, y'know."

Dragotta nodded with a wry smile. "Of course, I've told it to many ladies in my time."

"Heh, I believe you." Jugbender chuckled shortly, then his smile faded. "So, about twelve years ago I get a letter informin' me that my brother had been lost at sea. Thought it had to be a mistake at first because Bartholomew had never enjoyed sailin' an' he was a poor swimmer at best. Turned out that he'd been on his way to Melee on business and he'd taken his wife with him since it was close to their anniversary. It wasn't even like he was sailin' the boat himself, he was on the inter-Island ferry an' it got caught in a storm after leavin' Booty..." The bartender broke off with a sigh and downed the rest of his grog before continuing. "Just as well they'd left Morgan on Lucre, because not a soul on that boat survived."

"She must have been quite small then." Dragotta commented as Jugbender returned to polishing the stack of glasses.

"Aye. I didn't even know my brother had a daughter, the letter was from the law offices an' all it said was that they needed to speak to me about my brother's estate. An' the estate turned out to be a two year-old girl an' a handful of doubloons." Jugbender grunted sceptically as he went on. "Apparently the rest was absorbed by search costs, administration fees, funeral fees... you name it, there was a fee for it. I didn't understand half of what they were sayin' so all I could do was go along with it. Bloody lawyers."

"You know what they say, not every pirate sails or carries a sword." Dragotta replied sympathetically. "And they probably make a better living at it than the real pirates do."

Jugbender nodded in response with a humourless smile. "I'd say you're right there Dante. So, there was me, sitting in a law office bein' told that this was my niece an' unless I wanted to see her sent off to a bloody orphanage, she was my responsibility. Naturally I didn't like the sound of that, so I decided to go through with the retirement plan a bit early."

"Very sentimental," the swordsman said with a grin. "But also commendable. Though it does raise another question..." With a wide, sweeping motion of one arm, Dragotta indicated the bar and the rest of the room. "How exactly did an adventurer like yourself afford this place with just a handful of doubloons? I don't remember you being particularly careful with your money."

"Ah. Well..." Leaning forward over the bar, Jugbender looked around the room carefully, but the men playing cards weren't showing the slightest interest in the conversation, their attention fixed on their game. Even so, Jugbender dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You remember I told you about the Treasury of the Dead?" He looked at Dragotta expectantly, but the swordsman's expression was blank. "You know, the Loot of the Lost? The Gold of the Crossroads? I told you all about it back on Booty Island; it must have been about a year before my brother died. We were there for Mardi Gras, remember?"

Slow remembrance dawned in Dragotta's eyes at Jugbender's words, followed by more than a little embarrassment. "Ah. Yes. I do remember that. Well, I remember being on Booty and you telling me about some kind of cursed treasure..." He looked away awkwardly as the bartender glared at him.

"It was the best bloody story I've ever told, and you're about the only person that's ever heard the whole thing." Jugbender growled, insulted. "At least I **thought** you'd heard the whole thing."

"Well to be fair, at the time we were both fairly intoxicated. And there were many, many beautiful ladies there. _Mea culpa_, I was distracted. I apologise." Dragotta inclined his head contritely. "If you care to tell it again, I promise I will listen this time."

"Hmph, maybe because there're no women around this time." Jugbender grumbled. But, as Dragotta had correctly surmised, he was unable to resist the temptation to tell the story once more. "Well, it all started with a map ol' Stoneface won in a poker game with the smugglers on Skull Island..."

o.o.o.o.o

It hadn't taken long for Morgan to pack what she'd need, as she kept most of her possessions in one of her uncle's old sea chests - all she'd had to do was pile some clothes in on top. From school geography lessons she vaguely remembered that Phatt was the closest island to Lucre in the Tri-Island Area and only a couple of hours away by ferry, so it wouldn't take long to come back for anything that she'd forgotten. _The Time I Blew Up LeChuck_ was carefully placed in the middle of a stack of folded shirts to stop the cover getting damaged, and after a moment of hesitation Morgan pushed _Passion's Persistent Presence_ to the very bottom of the chest. Given that her uncle had laughed at her for reading Melanie Leary books, Morgan didn't want to see what Dragotta's reaction would be.

Straightening up, Morgan took another look around her room for anything she'd need to take with her. Her old school books obviously wouldn't be any use, neither would her collection of souvenirs from the various islands she'd visited with her uncle over the years. Picking up the Blood Island 'volcano globe', Morgan shook it and watched the tiny orange and yellow flecks of 'lava' swirl around inside the glass before settling back onto the miniature model of the island. That had definitely been her favourite vacation; not just because of the volcano, but also because the owner of the hotel had actually met Guybrush Threepwood.

But the volcano globe wouldn't be much use while she was studying swordplay, so Morgan reluctantly set it back on the shelf with the other knick-knacks. Moving over to the window, she leaned on the sill and looked out at Lucre Town with a nostalgic sigh. True, it wasn't the most exciting place in the Caribbean, but it was still the place she'd grown up and she was fond of it. And technically Guybrush had saved this island too - not counting the times he had saved the entire Caribbean from LeChuck - since he'd gotten rid of Ozzie Mandrill after all.

After Mandrill had 'disappeared', Morgan had always wondered if Elaine Marley would resume governing the island from the mansion that the Australian had appropriated. But the self-governing council that had been set up during Mandrill's time had proven to be even more effective at running the island without him, probably because they weren't so keen on working with criminals like Pegnose Pete, and while the citizens of Lucre still recognised the Marley gubernatorial seal, the days of being governed by them were over.

Phatt had its own self-appointed governor, Morgan remembered that from school. Apparently he was something of a dictator, but Morgan also remembered hearing that Guybrush had managed to escape from his dungeon and that he'd found part of the map to Big Whoop on the island. It was no Melee, that was for sure, but it wouldn't be the worst island to be staying on.

Going back to the chest, Morgan closed it and pushed it towards the door; though it wasn't excessively heavy it was still too large for her to lift properly. She managed to get it to the top of the stairs, but it quickly became apparent that getting it down them would be hazardous at best, and Jugbender hadn't been too happy with her the last time she'd pushed it downstairs while sitting on it. (Maybe because she'd gone straight into a table at the bottom.) Leaving the chest where it was for now, Morgan headed back down to the bar to enlist her uncle's help in moving it further.

Jugbender and Dragotta seemed to be in the middle of a private conversation as Morgan approached them, seeing her uncle make a chopping motion with both hands as she got close enough to hear what he was saying.

"...clean in two, right off the bloody deck. An' that's the only time I've ever seen a great white jump, let alone jump that high."

"And you're sure it wasn't a dolphin?" Dragotta sounded sceptical.

"Ha! Did you ever see the dolphin that could bite a man in half?" Without waiting for Dragotta to reply, Jugbender continued. "No, it was the biggest damn shark I've ever seen in my life, an' after that even those of us who hadn't taken anythin' weren't keen on standin' by the rails. So the next mornin'..." The bartender stopped mid-sentence as he noticed Morgan, straightening up sharply. "Is that you done packin' lass?"

"Yeah, but I can't get the chest downstairs and I didn't want to just push it." Morgan replied, hopping up onto a barstool. "Was that the story about the witch doctor that used a pack of cursed sharks to scare people into buying his voodoo shark repellent?"

Jugbender nodded awkwardly in response, giving Dragotta a meaningful glance. "Errr... aye. Just with a bit more detail than usual." Before Morgan could respond, her uncle reached below the bar and handed her Gomez's leash. "I'll bring your box down in a minute, why don't you take Gomez for a walk before you leave? Old feller's going to miss you once you're gone."

"Um... okay then." Though she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being dismissed, Morgan headed over to the old dog and clipped the leash onto his collar. "C'mon boy, you want to go out?" The dog stretched and yawned, then got stiffly to his feet and followed Morgan obediently.

Jugbender waited until the door had closed behind them before leaning back towards Dragotta and lowering his voice back to an undertone. "As far as she needs to know, we were talking about cursed sharks, got it?"

"So she hasn't heard this story then?" Dragotta asked curiously. "I have to admit, it is a good one even by your standards." The swordsman considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "Or is this something to do with why you don't seem to have met with any unfortunate accidents like the others?"

"You could say that, aye." Jugbender replied. "She'll understand better when she's older. Now, where was I..."

"Mad Mulligan had just been bitten in two by what you insist was a shark." Dragotta supplied helpfully. "Don't know whether to feel sorrier for him or the shark."

"Right. Well, ol' Mully wasn't the last. The next one to fall under the curse was Pegfoot..."


	3. Chapter 3: Dueling With Fate

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I'm still taking vast liberties with Jugbender and Dante Dragotta.

**Notes:** Did I mention that the account of the events of _The Secret of Monkey Island_ that Guybrush writes in 'The Time I Blew Up LeChuck' is completely fabricated, in more ways than one? I did? Good. Because it's even more fabricated than usual this time. Oh Guybrush, you were such an ass back then.

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback.

**Spoilers:** None.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Dueling With Fate

_"I've heard of you, Guybrush Threepwood," the Swordmaster told me, the coldness of her gaze unable to mask the grudging respect in her eyes. "They say you're the most skilled duellist to set foot on Melee Island in years."_

_I laughed in response, though my hand hovered near the hilt of my blade. "Given the competition, that's hardly much of an achievement. Not even Captain Smirk could teach me anything." An exaggeration maybe, but if my time on the island had taught me anything, it was to keep my opponents on their toes._

_"Oh really." Almost faster than I could have believed possible, the Swordmaster sprang up from her meditative position and drew her sword, which flicked towards me like a serpent's tongue of sharpened steel. But my own reflexes had been honed to the keenness of a razor by the constant challenges I had faced so far on the aptly-named Melee, and with a ringing clash I drew my weapon and parried Carla's blade before it even got close. "Huh. You *are* good," she muttered, pacing backwards a few steps and raising her sword in a warrior's salute._

_"That's what they tell me." I replied, returning the gesture respectfully. Even if I was going to beat her, there was no reason not to be polite about it. "By the way, I've been reliably informed that you fight like a dairy farmer."_

_The Swordmaster's eyes narrowed as she levelled her blade at me. "What a coincidence. I've heard that you fight like a cow." With that, she lunged at me, and thus began a battle that would go down in Melee Island history._  
**- Guybrush Threepwood: "The Time I Blew Up LeChuck"  
**

Perched behind the bowsprit of the ferry, Morgan watched as the dark greenish-grey hump on the horizon slowly resolved itself into the harbour of Phatt Island. It wasn't the first time that she had visited another island, but it was the first time she had ever been to Phatt, and she had always been particularly enthusiastic about going to islands that Guybrush Threepwood had travelled through. Morgan hoped that she'd be able to visit the prison, to see if she could work out exactly how Guybrush had managed to escape from it. From her uncle's warnings, it had sounded like getting into it wouldn't be a problem; Jugbender had told her that she'd have to behave herself on this island because the governor would have her tossed in the dungeon for looking at him the wrong way. He'd also told her not to eat anything that had been caught in the harbour in case it had once been human, so she wasn't sure how much to believe him on either count.

Dragotta had paid little attention to her during the journey; he had simply taken a seat on one of the benches by the cabin wall, leaned back against it and pulled his tricorn hat down over his eyes. To all intents and purposes, he seemed to be asleep, and Morgan had to admit that she was slightly disappointed. She hadn't exactly been expecting him to duel the other passengers to pass the time, but neither had she thought that he wouldn't move for the entire crossing.

The ferry creaked as the pilot turned it towards the Phatt Island harbour, cruising round in a gentle curve. Morgan could now make out a line of buildings behind the docks. Several had signs hanging over their doors that she couldn't make out; the only one she could read from her current distance was posted on one of the larger buildings and said 'Library'. Maybe that meant that she'd finally be able to get her hands on some of Guybrush's other books - though in the back of her mind she also wondered if they'd stock any of Melanie Leary's works. That was definitely something that she'd need to investigate.

"Almost there. Good." Morgan jumped at the sound of Dragotta's voice beside her, and she turned to see the swordsman standing next to her, looking towards the dock. She hadn't heard him approach, much less noticed him standing up. "We've still got some distance to go."

"Okay." Looking at Dragotta, Morgan now wasn't so sure that he'd been sleeping at all, he seemed wide awake. Maybe he'd been meditating like the Swordmaster of Melee Island. Morgan wondered if that was a skill that she'd need to learn as well.

If he was aware of the girl's scrutiny, Dragotta certainly didn't show it, not even glancing towards her as she spoke. He stood at the rail for a few more minutes as the ferry neared the dock, his hands clasped behind his back, then turned away abruptly. "Come. We'll need to get your box." Without a backwards glance to see if Morgan was following, Dragotta headed towards the aft section of the ferry where passenger luggage was stored. Without hesitation, Morgan ran after him.

o.o.o.o.o

Less than ten minutes later, Morgan was standing on the pier and looking around herself curiously. Phatt Island didn't seem to be as busy as Lucre, though every now and again she saw the same man pass from one alley to another and back again. Two of her fellow passengers had already disappeared into one of the alleys, while another had headed for the library with a look of distinct trepidation; Morgan had heard him mutter something about fines.

Looking about for Dragotta, Morgan felt a brief stab of panic as she realised she'd lost sight of him. Maybe he'd already left for wherever they were headed. Maybe he was testing her, and she have to find her way there herself. She was just starting to drag her box towards the path leading deeper into the island when she heard the swordsman call to her.

"You can walk if you really want, but you'll have to find your own way." Dragotta was standing on the deck of a small Bermuda-rigged sloop moored next to the pier, watching her with some amusement. "Good exercise maybe, but not so much fun if you have luggage."

With an inarticulate, irritated mutter, Morgan dragged her box back along the pier towards Dragotta's boat, noticing that the name _Zanni_ was carved into the prow. There was no gangplank to board it, but the swordsman helped her to lift the sea chest on board and Morgan quickly jumped up after it. The sloop was small with only a single mast, but plainly seaworthy and Morgan couldn't stop herself from asking the question that it had immediately brought to mind.

"Uhm... if you have a boat, why did you take the ferry to Lucre?" Although Morgan wanted to add that the sloop would probably have been faster than the ferry as well she decided to leave that detail out for now.

Casting off from the pier, Dragotta then moved over to the helm before deigning to reply. "Well, I thought that your uncle would worry enough with you leaving. It would have been worse if he'd thought you'd be travelling here on my boat, he's never had a high opinion of my sailing skills."

Morgan tried to bite her tongue, but failed. "Is that because of the time you sank a jollyboat?" The look Dragotta shot towards her in response was somewhere between rueful and annoyance.

"I see he told you that story then." Dragotta's voice however was as calm as ever. "Given that he still brings it up every time I see him, I shouldn't be surprised. He was always the better sailor, I admit that. But then again, I never claimed to be a sailor." Shaking his head with a wry smile, Dragotta glanced towards the girl once more. "I'd imagine he taught you how to sail, yes?"

Morgan nodded, remembering her early lessons manoeuvring a skiff along Lucre's relatively safe coastline. "Yeah, but I never had to sail between islands, just around Lucre."

"Well, we're only going around that headland at the end of the cove." Dragotta replied, pointing along the dock to where the shoreline receded into the horizon. "So you can take the jib. It shouldn't be longer than a quarter hour..."

o.o.o.o.o

Dragotta's estimate had been accurate; barely fifteen minutes later they had arrived at a small dock in a shallow bay on the north side of the island, facing a towering rock islet that jutted out of the ocean about a hundred feet from the shore. Tilting her head back, Morgan could just make out a fuzz of greenery at the top of the islet, but then she nearly fell to the deck as the sloop hit the dock with a bump. Muttering something in Italian, which didn't sound at all complimentary, Dragotta struck the helm in annoyance as he stood up and moved over to the mooring post.

Looking away from the swordsman, mainly to hide her smile, Morgan began to furl the sails. Dragotta hadn't asked her to do it, but she figured that showing some initiative wouldn't be a bad thing. By the time she had finished, Dragotta had already moved her box to the docks and was waiting for her, watching her with the same look of faint approval she'd seen in her uncle's bar.

"So you do know how to sail," the swordsman commented as Morgan joined him on the dock. Turning to face inland, he headed towards a blocky stone building that looked like it had once been a small warehouse. "Tell me, did your uncle also teach you how to mix a Tri-Island Tuna Colada?"

"No," Morgan replied, dragging her box behind her as she followed Dragotta along the dirt path. "He always said I was too young to be mixing drinks."

"I suppose that's what he gets for settling on Lucre," he muttered. "Phatt might be run by a dictator, but at least he isn't as fond of legislation..." Reaching the large double doors of the building, Dragotta unlocked a smaller door set into one of them and stepped inside. Following him, the first thing Morgan noticed was the faint but unmistakeable smell of rum.

The second thing she noticed was the rack of swords, even though they were on the opposite side of the large room that took up the entirety of the lower storey of the building. Tearing her gaze away from the seductive gleam of steel, Morgan looked around at the room itself. There were a few fencing diagrams on one of the bare stone walls, and a row of practice dummies lined up opposite them. The floor was covered with worn straw matting and at the far end, a wooden staircase led up to the second floor.

"You will sleep upstairs," Dragotta informed her. "This used to be a storehouse for rum merchants, but they went out of business after one of their suppliers here disappeared." He shrugged dismissively. "Whatever, it belongs to me now."

"Do any of your other students stay here?" Morgan asked, trying to look casual as she wandered over to the sword rack. She knew better than to try and pick one up without being told, but couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch one of the hilts.

"That one would be too heavy for you at present." Dragotta smirked as Morgan snatched her hand away at his words. "And no, my other students stay in the town, some of them travel from Booty Island. You get to stay here as a special favour to your uncle." He paused, looking at Morgan with a faint grin. "But maybe it's not such a favour to you, because I expect you to do as I tell you whether you're in a lesson or not."

"Okay, sounds fair to me." Morgan was only half listening to the swordsman, her attention more focused on her surroundings. On Lucre, all of her lessons had been outside, never in a proper training gym, and had mostly consisted of her copying the tutor's moves. "When do I get my first lesson?" She turned as she heard Dragotta laugh softly in response.

"Well, you're certainly enthusiastic. We can start now if you'd wish." One look at the girl's face was all the swordsman needed for an answer, and he strode across the room to where she stood by the swords. To Morgan's surprise however, he moved past them and on to a barrel in the corner, drawing out two lengths of wood roughly fashioned into the shape of sabres. "Here." Tossing one to Morgan, Dragotta moved to the centre of the floor and waited for her to join him.

Morgan didn't move, staring at the wooden sword with undisguised scorn. "We're supposed to fight with **these**? That's for kids! I do know how to use a sword you know."

With an expressive sigh, Dragotta raised one hand to rub his forehead. "I was under the impression that what you'd learned on Lucre hadn't been very extensive. So we will fight without blades to begin with. Besides," he added, fixing Morgan with a stern glare. "I think you are already forgetting what I said about doing as I tell you."

"But this doesn't even feel like a sword!" Morgan complained, reluctantly heading over to where the swordsman was standing. "It's too light; we might as well fight with sticks."

"In that case, perhaps I should send you to fetch some," Dragotta snapped sharply. "For now I wish to examine your technique, you don't need a real blade to show me that. Besides," he continued, drawing his own sword in one swift move and looking at the girl down the length of the blade. "If I was to hit you with this, you would certainly learn, but it is unlikely that you'd live long enough to profit from the lesson. And then I would have some very awkward explanations to make to your uncle." Sheathing the weapon, Dragotta waved the wooden sword at her instead. "Now, if I hit you with this on the other hand, it will just bruise you. And your ego. Do we have an understanding?"

Morgan nodded silently in response, her eyes wide. Shifting the wooden sword to his right hand, Dragotta adopted a standard guard position, levelling the blunt blade towards her.

"Try to hit me. Anywhere will do." As an afterthought, he added "...the bout will end if you manage to strike me. Otherwise, it will continue until I call a halt. Ready?" Again, Morgan nodded silently, but this time it was due to excitement rather than intimidation. "Very well. En garde!"

Without hesitation, Morgan immediately went for an all-out offensive, launching a rapid flurry of blows at the swordsman in much the same manner that she had with her previous tutor. But this time, every one of them was parried. Hopping backwards a few paces, she waited to get her breath back then went in for a second attack, this time aiming her weapon both high and low. Again, Dragotta blocked each blow with an ease that seemed almost contemptuous; following up his final parry with a riposte that jabbed painfully into Morgan's ribs.

The cycle went on for almost twenty minutes; Morgan would step back to catch her breath then launch another assault at the swordsman, who barely moved from his position as he continued to fend her off successfully. The only time Morgan came close to hitting him was when she feinted a low blow then cut over Dragotta's defensive action to strike at his head, but the swordsman avoided her blow with a quick backwards step. As the session wore on, her blows became clumsier as she tired, making fewer attempts to hit her opponent, and getting more chastising knocks from his wooden blade.

"Enough." Dragotta called eventually, lowering his weapon. Panting, Morgan considered taking a final swing at him now that his guard was down, but she knew that would be quite possibly the biggest mistake of her life so far. To her surprise, rather than looking disappointed, Dragotta seemed impressed. "Not bad for someone so young, your footwork is terrible but I suspect that comes from your former tutors. Otherwise, your technique is good."

"But I didn't hit you." Morgan couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice. "And you hit me without even trying."

"I was not expecting things to go otherwise." Dragotta replied, taking Morgan's practice weapon from her and returning both to the barrel. "If they had, I would have serious concerns about my own capability to teach you." Seeing Morgan's look of chagrin, he continued quickly. "But you did better than I expected. For one thing, you did not give up. And your feint was good; you should have tried that move when you had more energy to execute it. It wouldn't have worked, but still."

"Do I get to try again later?" Morgan asked, mentally filing away the comment about her feint for future reference. Dragotta burst out laughing at the question, just as he had done back in Jugbender's bar.

"You really don't give up, do you?" Still smiling, the swordsman shook his head. "No, the next time I will ask you to try and hit me will be after you've had some proper lessons first. It's getting late, so we'll start first thing in the morning."

"Okay." Despite her bruises, Morgan couldn't help a grin. "I promise not to complain about the wooden swords next time..."


	4. Chapter 4: Crossing Blades

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I'm still taking vast liberties with Jugbender and Dante Dragotta.

**Notes:** As usual, the excerpts from 'The Time I Blew Up LeChuck' are filthy with lies. And it, along with 'Why I Blew Up LeChuck', 'Where I Blew Up LeChuck', 'When I Blew Up LeChuck' and even 'Love's Lingering Lassitude', can all be found in the Phatt Island library in LeChuck's Revenge. It's also worth noting that 'Melanie Leary' is an anagram for 'Elaine Marley'...

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback.

**Spoilers:** None.

* * *

Chapter 4 – Crossing Blades

_If Smirk's automated blades had taught me anything, it was that I should be constantly on my guard, ready for whatever the pirates of this island might throw at me. The thought of his terrible 'Machine' still sent shivers down my spine as I remembered facing its implacable monkey-powered swords while secondary blows were aimed at my face and gut. But if I could hold my own against that infernal device, then surely no pirate could pose a challenge, with the possible exception of the Swordmaster herself._

_So here I was, wandering the dark paths of Melee Island and looking for a fight. Smirk had told me that despite my considerable skill with a blade, I would still need to learn the local insults before facing Carla. He'd also said that I would have to prove myself a worthy opponent by defeating at least three other pirates, but I hardly considered that to be a challenge. Smirk's teaching might have been unorthodox, but his lesson had shown me that I had every reason to have confidence in my skills._

_As I neared the fork in the path, which led into the forest, I caught sight of a scurvy-looking figure heading towards me. It looked like I was about to learn some new insults..._  
**- Guybrush Threepwood: "The Time I Blew Up LeChuck"**

As usual, the bright morning sun served as an effective alarm clock. Morgan tried to block it out by pulling the blanket over her head, but it made little difference. She'd removed the curtains from the east-facing window specifically to make it difficult to sleep after sunrise, and at that moment, she hated herself for her ingenuity. Throwing the blanket off with an irritable grumble, she rolled herself off the narrow bed and onto her feet, leaning back as she stretched. Over the six months she'd spent with Dragotta, the small room she slept in had become almost as familiar as her room back on Lucre, though she spent very little time in it while she was awake.

Quickly getting dressed, Morgan went out onto the landing and checked the time on the pendulum clock that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. It was just nearing 6am, giving her four hours until the first class at 10, and two hours at the most until Dragotta got up. Not much time at all given how much she had to get done. Quietly moving over to the fireplace, Morgan raked out the ashes, then stacked fresh wood and kindling in the grate so that it was ready for lighting and headed downstairs.

First, the chickens had to be fed, then the straw mats had to be taken outside and shook before the gym floor could be swept out. Then Morgan had to fetch a bucket of water from the pump behind the former warehouse and mop the floor as well, opening both of the double doors to let it dry before moving the mats back inside. That covered the tasks that Morgan was expected to carry out in the morning, next came the ones that she'd taken on voluntarily.

Checking the lamps which illuminated the training hall and landing after dark, Morgan trimmed the wicks and refilled them with oil, then at 7am exactly she went upstairs to light the fire, taking a pitcher of fresh water with her and leaving it on the counter in the scullery. Cleaning that was one of the tasks she had to do before going to bed. Returning downstairs, she fetched a cloth and oil and set about her favourite chore, maintaining and polishing the practice swords. Sometimes she felt slightly guilty that she'd never done half as much to help out at home back on Lucre. Then again, on Lucre she didn't get extra sparring practice in exchange.

By the time Dragotta came downstairs, the practice swords were back in their rack with blades oiled and hilts polished, and Morgan was working her way through some warm-up exercises using one of the wooden blades. Thanks to the creaking floorboards of the upper level, Morgan always had time to return the practice sword she used when Dragotta wasn't around and grab a wooden one instead before he even got to the top of the stairs. She did have a nagging feeling that he knew she was doing this all the same, but so far, he hadn't made any comment on it.

Taking a cursory glance around the room, Dragotta nodded slightly in acknowledgement then turned to Morgan. "I see you have been busy as usual," he noted approvingly. "The gym is ready for the first class, so we have time for an extra session before it begins..."

o.o.o.o.o

Biting back her curses, Morgan hopped awkwardly around the gym clutching her shin while Dragotta watched her with a complete lack of both remorse and sympathy.

"How many times must I tell you?" Dragotta asked, with a faint edge of exasperation to his words. "Holding your position won't save your life in a real fight, you need to be ready to move!" Morgan didn't reply, but glared at him resentfully as she came to a halt and gingerly put her weight back on the bruised limb. "See, this is why we do not fight with real blades yet."

"What happened to standing your ground?" Although Morgan's expression was rebellious, she managed to keep her tone respectful. "Isn't that important?"

"If there is a wall at your back and no means of escape then yes, that's important." Dragotta replied, dashing forwards to make a quick chop at Morgan's side with the wooden sword. Despite her surprise at the sudden attack, she still reacted fast enough to parry the blow and strike back at her tutor. "Good," he noted with satisfaction, at least the girl's reflexes were sharp. "As I was saying, in some situations yes, standing your ground is important. If you cannot move to a better position. If you are fighting a true duel of honour. However... should you be fighting more than one opponent, standing your ground is a good way to get cut to ribbons."

Shifting quickly to the side, Dragotta aimed a double-handed swing at Morgan's shoulder, a blow that she would not be strong enough to block or parry. Realising this herself, Morgan ducked under Dragotta's weapon and rolled out of the way. Springing back to her feet, she thrust at his ribs, but missed as the swordsman hopped backwards to avoid her wooden blade. Despite six months of tuition, including all the extra lessons and sparring sessions she'd earned by doing extra chores, she still hadn't managed to hit him yet.

"Also," Dragotta continued as Morgan pressed the attack, raising his voice so that it could be heard over the furious clatter of their weapons. "Even if you have but one opponent, if you are fighting in an open space, you'd be a fool not to use it to your advantage." With a quick sidestep, Dragotta outflanked the girl and quickly jabbed his wooden sword towards her hand, catching Morgan's weapon below the hilt as she spun round to face him and knocking it out of her hand. "See?"

"That doesn't seem fair," Morgan grumbled as she retrieved the wooden sword. Dragotta shrugged in response.

"I didn't say it was. What, you think all the opponents you face will fight fair?" There was a pause as he considered that for a few moments. "Well, the ones you face here will, because they are afraid of me, but I doubt they will be the only opponents you will face in your lifetime. That is why I do not train you to fight fair; I train you so that you stay alive." Hearing the clock upstairs chime the half hour, Dragotta lowered his weapon. "The other students will arrive soon, so we will end..." Before he could finish his sentence, Morgan darted forward and jabbed him in the shoulder while his guard was down. Grabbing hold of the wooden blade with a furious growl, Dragotta wrenched it out of the girl's grasp and glared at her. "I hope you have a very good reason for doing that."

With a disarming smile, Morgan clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at her tutor with her very best 'bashful young girl' expression. "You did just say that you weren't teaching me to fight fair," she replied sweetly. "It must be working."

Dragotta did his best to keep glaring at her, but couldn't stop his stern glower from cracking into a wry smile. "I must be a better teacher than I thought for you to learn so quickly."

"You must be." Morgan agreed, making sure that her inward smugness didn't show in her voice or face. She'd been waiting for a chance to do something like that for a long time, and now she was satisfied. Even if she was sure that Dragotta would find a way to get his own back somehow.

o.o.o.o.o

"Is this because I hit you when you weren't expecting it? That was months ago!" Morgan was facing her tutor on the small beach next to the dock where the _Zanni_ was moored, sweltering in the July heat.

"Maybe a little." Dragotta admitted. "But your footwork still needs improvement. Now take off your boots."

"But the sand's so hot I can feel it through my boots!" Morgan protested. "I hit you with a wooden sword, you make me burn my feet off. Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" The look Dragotta fixed her with told Morgan that there was no point in arguing, and with reluctance, she stepped out of one boot and kicked off the other. With a yelp, she immediately started hopping from one foot to the other, trying to spend as little time in contact with the scorching sand as possible. "So... how long... do I have to stand here?"

"That depends," Dragotta began, handing her one of the wooden practice swords that he'd brought with him. "You can stand there all day if you'd like, or go run into the surf if you'd prefer."

Although she looked longingly towards the water, Morgan didn't try to move forward, eyeing Dragotta suspiciously. "Okay, what's the catch?"

"Oh, that's simple." Deliberately moving to stand between Morgan and the sea, Dragotta raised his weapon and took up a standard sparring position. "You just have to get past me first." He grinned at the look on the girl's face. "_Batti il ferro quando è caldo_, Morgan. Strike while the iron is hot." With a meaningful glance downwards, his grin widened. "Or in this case, the sand."

With an infuriated yell, Morgan lunged at him.

o.o.o.o.o

Collapsing face-down onto her bed, Morgan fought the urge to just fall asleep there and then, without even removing her boots. It wasn't even 9pm, but the evening sparring session had worn her out more than the evening chores. Eventually, if reluctantly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and pulled her boots off, then picked up the library copy of _Why I Blew Up LeChuck_ that was sitting by her bed and settled back down to read a chapter before going to sleep.

Minutes later, the book hit the floor with a thud as Morgan tossed it away in disgust. It was the only one of Guybrush's books which she hadn't finished reading, and it looked like her third attempt wasn't going to be any more successful than the first two. _Where I Blew Up LeChuck_ had been interesting, as it had been full of lurid descriptions of the islands Guybrush had travelled through and had even included a rough map of the fabled Monkey Island itself. _When I Blew Up LeChuck_ had rehashed a lot of material from _The Time I Blew Up LeChuck_, but at least it had covered Guybrush's final confrontation with the dreaded ghost pirate in more detail. It had also contained sketches and descriptions of the duelling moves that Guybrush had used in his battle with LeChuck on the roof of the church on Melee Island, and Morgan had quickly learned all of them by heart.

_Why I Blew Up LeChuck_ was different. Instead of going into detail about the terrifying masks worn by the cannibals on Monkey Island, or describing how to execute a Rogue's Riposte, it seemed to be made up of endless purple passages focusing on how attractive, clever or charming Elaine Marley was. It was bad enough knowing that Guybrush was married to the woman without having to read about how wonderful she was to boot.

Reaching under her mattress, Morgan retrieved the copy of _Love's Lingering Lassitude_ that she'd stashed beneath it. Melanie Leary had been experimenting with first-person narration when she'd written it, which meant that all Morgan had to do was mentally substitute Guybrush's name in strategic places. She still felt just as guilty for reading the book in the first place, but at least she enjoyed it more.

o.o.o.o.o

"So you're behavin' yourself then?"

"Yes Uncle Jugbender," Morgan replied, sitting at the bar of the Staggering Sailor. It was almost a year now since she had left Lucre Island, but she still visited often. "I haven't wound up in the dungeons once yet."

"Well mind that you keep it that way," her uncle warned. "I hear that the governor over on Phatt only accepts bail in the form of cake, and you know I can't bake."

Morgan giggled at the thought. "Well if you accidentally killed him, maybe they'd let me go." She ducked her head as Jugbender ruffled her hair fondly but didn't complain, even though it was embarrassing now that she was fifteen. "So, what was that story you were telling Dragotta before I went to Phatt? You know, the one with people getting bitten in half by sharks?"

"That?" Although Jugbender's voice was casual, Morgan didn't miss the flicker of unease that passed across his face. "Oh, that was just the story about the giant sharks out by Aquati Cay. I swear those things were as smart as you or me, I remember..."

"I thought you said they were cursed?" Morgan asked, interrupting before Jugbender could finish his sentence. "And it was something to do with a witch doctor?"

Thinking quickly, Jugbender tried to cover up his mistake. "Well, it was the witch doctor that had made them grow to that size you know, they were still cursed all the same." Seeing that Morgan was about to ask another question, he made a show of looking at the clock over the fireplace. "Doesn't the ferry leave soon? I don't think I've got enough time to tell you the whole story, it'll need to wait until next time."

"Next time then." Morgan agreed, knowing that she wasn't going to get any more out of her uncle on this visit. At least now she knew that whatever he'd been telling Dragotta wasn't the story he'd claimed it was at the time. Interesting.


	5. Chapter 5: Testing Times

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I take huge liberties with characters that have only been mentioned and never actually appeared. Like everyone in Morgan's background details.

**Notes:** For once the excerpt from 'The Time I Blew Up LeChuck' is actually fairly close to the truth... I'll need to fix that in the next chapter.

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback.

**Spoilers:** None.

* * *

Chapter 5 – Testing Times

_As I watched Meathook open each of the increasingly smaller yet increasingly robust doors, I wondered why nothing could ever be simple. Granted, the Swordmaster had agreed to join my crew, but that was only after I had defeated her in combat once again. And that little rat Otis had fled the moment that I had freed him with my ingenious use of the Scumm Bar's particularly corrosive brand of grog._

_Now here I was, watching a handless and delusional muscle-bound maniac so that I could prove myself to him by facing the terrible beast within. As the third set of metal doors ratcheted open, I wondered what kind of creature could inspire such terror. A man-eating baboon? A rare amphibious attack squid? A poorly-domesticated piranha poodle? Whatever it was, I knew that I'd need all of my courage to face it without being maimed like poor Meathook. I'd thought the tests would have ended with the Three Trials, but as I was left to open the final door between myself and the monster, I reflected that maybe the true test of my skills was yet to come..._  
**- Guybrush Threepwood:"The Time I Blew Up LeChuck"  
**

The steel blades met with a ringing clash, locking together as both Morgan and Dragotta tried to force the other back by sheer force. She had been studying with Dragotta for over two years now, and once she had turned sixteen he'd finally allowed sparring sessions with real swords. As Dragotta's blade slowly inched towards her, Morgan kicked at his face to distract him. She already knew that the blow wouldn't connect, Dragotta was too quick, but as he moved back to avoid it she seized the opportunity to disengage her blade and rolled to the side, springing back to her feet and lunging in the same movement.

Pivoting to face her, Dragotta parried Morgan's sword and immediately aimed a riposte at her midriff. Sidestepping quickly, Morgan struck at her tutor's outstretched blade, aiming to both deflect the blow and keep Dragotta's weapon low as she aimed another kick at his wrist to disarm him. Laughing, Dragotta took a quick step backwards, withdrawing his blade and sweeping it up and over Morgan's sword to slash at her leg. Overbalancing as she tried to avoid the blow, Morgan let herself fall backwards instead of trying to regain her footing, turning the move into a backwards somersault and landing neatly on her feet.

"That was a good move," Dragotta commented as he pressed the attack, not even giving Morgan a moment to recover. To his satisfaction, she didn't need it, easily parrying his swipes even though she was still recovering her balance. "You would have disarmed me if I hadn't been expecting it." Feinting a thrust at her face, Dragotta quickly swept his blade downwards to jab at the girl's chest as she raised her sword to block the higher blow. Changing her parry into a downwards slash, Morgan slapped her tutor's blade to the side before it could connect.

"Are you saying that I'm predictable?" Catching Dragotta's counter-swing on the forte of her blade, Morgan tried to use her greater leverage to twist his weapon out of his hand. Adjusting his grip, Dragotta flicked his sword free of the lock and chopped at Morgan's legs, but she leapt over the blade without even looking at it. "Well, so was that. You always go for the legs!"

Blocking Morgan's sword as it swept towards his head, Dragotta stepped quickly to one side, looking for an opening. Copying him, Morgan moved to the opposite side and the two of them began to circle, holding their weapons defensively. "Hit your opponent in the leg and they will have much more trouble keeping up with you." Dragotta pointed out, quickly lashing out at Morgan's face. "And you like to kick." Jerking her head to the side, Morgan felt the breeze from the blade on her cheek, but instead of parrying, she thrust at Dragotta's unguarded ribs instead. The swordsman grunted as the blunt blade jabbed into his padded jacket, but nodded his approval. "Good. One to you."

"Yeah, one to three..." Morgan muttered, glancing at the sandtimer perched on the sword rack as both of them took a moment to catch their breath. "And I'll never catch up before the time runs out."

"Maybe not," Dragotta replied, raising his sword back into a guard position. Morgan immediately followed suit, then lunged only to find herself attacking empty space as Dragotta neatly sidestepped her assault. "But that's still one more than most of my students manage."

"Yeah... well... you fight like a dairy farmer!" Morgan retorted, spinning to face her tutor and slashing her blade towards him as he rolled his eyes. Parrying the blow, Dragotta locked blades with the girl and disarmed her with a sharp twist.

"Morgan, we've been through this," Dragotta sighed as she retrieved her weapon. "There's no point in using insults if you aren't a pirate." He jabbed his sword towards the sandtimer as Morgan dropped back into a fighting stance, and she looked towards it to see the last grains drain into the lower bulb.

"Awwww..." Taking Dragotta's practice blade as he handed it to her, Morgan returned it to the rack along with her own. "I don't see why we can't use insults, suppose you're fighting a pirate?"

"Well, in that case it makes perfect sense to fight them on their own terms, doesn't it?" Dragotta replied with unmistakeable sarcasm. "The insults used to have an impact five, ten years ago. But now they are used for stupid things, like arm wrestling and card games. Only pirates still take them seriously. And you are not a pirate. Learn the insults if you must, but don't rely on them."

"Haven't you ever used them?" Morgan asked. "You've fought lots of pirates, what did you do when they insulted you?"

"Mostly I ignored them. Or if I knew the response, I used it, because that can surprise them. And it never..." Dragotta paused as he seemed to consider something, then corrected himself. "It **almost** never steered me wrong."

"Almost?" Morgan pressed, settling down on one of the benches as she smelled a story. "You just said there's no point using them, but if someone managed to beat you with them..."

Dragotta cut her off in mid-sentence. "Only once," he said sharply. "And it was many, many years ago, back when these insults were only used for fighting. And the woman who defeated me was a fine swordfighter in her own right."

"You were defeated by a woman?" Rather than disbelieving, Morgan sounded delighted. "Really?"

Shaking his head, Dragotta chuckled slightly. "I thought you would appreciate that. Yes, I was beaten by a woman. At least it means I can still honestly say that no man has defeated me." Seeing that Morgan was still watching him expectantly, Dragotta knew he'd have to tell her the whole story. "This was fourteen, maybe fifteen years ago, back when I was still captain of the guard on Port Royal. And these two pirates had broken into the Governor's mansion, presumably to steal from him, I never knew the details. It was just my job to arrest them."

"Was it..." Morgan began, only for Dragotta to interrupt before she could finish.

"No, it was not Guybrush Threepwood," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "What, you think he was still a mighty pirate when he was a boy?"

"He might have been..." Morgan muttered to herself. Ignoring her, Dragotta continued with his tale.

"My patrol chased these pirates through Port Royal, and we managed to corner them in an alley. One of them was a blonde man with one eye; the other was a black woman with dreadlocks. They were both fierce fighters, but the woman had greater skill with the blade, truly an artist." Dragotta's gaze had become distant as he became absorbed in the memory. "Her companion was ready to surrender, but she would not put up her blade. And just as I was about to disarm her, she looked me in the eye and said that she'd heard that my skills with the blade were as poor as my skills with my..." Stopping mid-sentence, Dragotta cleared his throat awkwardly. "But I digress. It surprised me, and I was the one disarmed. The rest of my patrol were as surprised as I was, and the pirates seized that opportunity to run. The Governor was most displeased."

"Is that why you had to leave Port Royal?" The question was innocent enough, but Morgan already knew that the real reason was nothing to do with failing to catch a pair of pirates. Eavesdropping on the conversations between her tutor and her uncle might not have told her anything more about cursed sharks, but it had certainly included some far more incriminating details.

Dragotta looked at the girl suspiciously, knowing from experience that whenever she tried to look naive it just meant that she had an ulterior motive. "No," he replied reluctantly. "The Governor dismissed me for personal reasons."

"Like sleeping with his wife?" Morgan had tried to keep a straight face, but failed as she watched Dragotta's expression change from mistrust to chagrin. "I heard you talking about it with Uncle Jugbender," she added with a giggle. "Then he said that it was a lot like the reason you had to leave Venice in the first place..."

"Go to your room." Dragotta ordered sternly, pointing at the stairs. Although Morgan obeyed, he could see that she was still grinning widely. The girl was getting audacious. He wasn't sure whether he should approve or not.

o.o.o.o.o

Morgan surveyed the 'test' that Dragotta had set up for her with more than a little doubt. The two of them were on the beach once again, but as it was dusk the sand was cool, and they hadn't brought swords. Instead Dragotta had set up two stands, each holding what looked like a large cloth-wrapped hula hoop, and positioned them about ten feet apart. Folding her arms, she looked at her tutor sceptically.

"So all I have to do is jump through these? That seems pretty easy..." Despite her words, Morgan felt distinctly unsure. Dragotta had never set her an easy test, and it was unlikely that he would start now. Maybe he'd dug a pit trap between the two hoops, and she'd have to avoid it. Maybe she'd have to avoid his sword in the process. "I can't believe you've actually got me jumping through hoops..."

"Well, I'm sure this will teach you something." Approaching the first hoop, Dragotta eyed it critically but thought better of touching it. "Are you ready?"

"Sure, as long as you're not expecting me to jump through both of them in one go." Despite her trepidation, Morgan's voice was casual. "I'm allowed to touch the ground between them, right?"

"Of course." Dragotta replied. "There's just one more thing..." Taking a box of matches from his pocket, he took a few steps back and lit one, cautiously holding it out towards the hoop. The kerosene-soaked fabric immediately caught fire with a low 'whumph'. As Morgan stared at the now-flaming hoop in disbelief, her tutor sauntered over to the second and lit that one as well. "There. Whenever you're ready."

Looking from the merrily blazing flames to Dragotta, Morgan saw that he was watching her expectantly. "Oh you **cannot** be serious! What the hell is this supposed to teach me anyway, when would I **ever** have to do this in a real fight?"

Dragotta didn't seem in the least bit concerned by her protestations, blowing out the match and returning the box to his pocket before replying. "When you're fighting in somewhere that's on fire?" he asked, his tone making it clear that he felt it was obvious.

"And why would I be fighting in a place that's on fire?" Morgan snapped, glaring at him. "That sounds pretty dumb to me."

"So when you have to fight, you'll send your opponent a polite letter asking him to meet you someplace nice?" Dragotta's voice was deliberately condescending, and from the look on Morgan's face, he could tell it was working. "You think you'll do all your fighting in a gym? Or maybe a nice beach with some sunshades and iced grog?"

"Okay, okay! Point taken!" Grumbling to herself, Morgan approached the first hoop, eyeing it carefully. Although its entire surface was on fire, the flames weren't high, if she took a run at it and dived through then she would hopefully avoid being burned. The second hoop would be the problem; she would need to keep up her momentum to make it through that one, as she wouldn't be able to get enough of a run to dive through it. Her best bet would be to get enough of a run up to make a forward flip through the first hoop, roll, and then handspring through the second. It worked in her head anyway. "It would have been nice to get a practice run before these were on fire you know," she commented as she judged the distance she'd need for her run.

"Perhaps." Dragotta admitted, shrugging. "But this way you think on your feet, yes?"

"Let's just hope I still have feet at the end of this..." Morgan muttered to herself. Then, with a deep breath, she dashed towards the first hoop, hoping that Dragotta had a bucket of water ready.

o.o.o.o.o

"You made her do **what**?" Jugbender's fists hit the bar so hard that the kegs beneath it rattled. "Have you lost your senses?"

"Calm down Nico, she wasn't even singed." Dragotta replied soothingly. "There was never any real danger."

"You had her jump through a hoop soaked in kerosene that you'd lit on fire, an' you say there was no danger?" Jugbender asked incredulously. "What if she'd landed on the bloody thing?"

Dragotta waved his hand dismissively at the suggestion. "That was never going to happen; you should have at least some faith in your niece's skills. And even if the flames had caught her, we were on the beach; the sand would have put them out." He chuckled slightly as he continued. "You should have seen her afterwards, she was immensely proud of herself. You'd have thought she'd jumped through two of them."

"Aye, but even you're not that daft." Somewhat mollified by Dragotta's words, and the fact that Morgan had been distinctly unburned when he'd seen her earlier, Jugbender poured another drink for both himself and Dragotta. "Usually girls her age are more interested in boys, but if anythin' the lass seems more set on her swordplay."

"For now anyway." Dragotta added. "It may not remain that way for much longer; the boys certainly seem to be noticing her these days..." Seeing the look that Jugbender was giving him, Dragotta sighed. "Yes, they do know what I will do to them on your behalf should they do more than notice. But there's only so much I'll be able to do should she decide that she likes the attention..."


	6. Chapter 6: The High Seas

**Disclaimers:** Everything belongs to LucasArts/Telltale Games, though I take huge liberties with characters that have only been mentioned and never actually appeared. Like everyone in Morgan's background details.

**Notes:** Long chapter is looooooooong. Also, pirates appearing in this chapter are not the Men of Low Moral Fiber. I wonder what happened to those guys...

Big thanks to Reaper_Lyn for beta reading and feedback and to GiantTope for letting me bounce ideas off her.

**Spoilers:** None.

* * *

Chapter 6 – The High Seas

_Standing in the prow of the Sea Monkey, I heard my crew gasp in awe behind me as the forbidding peaks of the fabled Monkey Island slowly rose against the horizon. There could be no doubt that this was indeed our deadly destination, the ship had been steering itself ever since I had cunningly deciphered the voodoo recipe concealed within the cryptic instructions I'd found in the captain's quarters. Where else could they have taken us, except for an island that was as wrapped about with infernal magic as LeChuck himself?_

_However, it soon became apparent that the spell was not sufficient to penetrate the defences of the Ghost Pirate's lair. As I deftly turned the wheel towards the southern beach, the ship ground to a halt, dead in the water despite the wind that still filled its sails. Otis immediately panicked, thinking that we had struck a reef, but it soon became apparent that the force which was stopping us was supernatural in nature. But there had to be a way for me to reach that accursed shore, I refused to admit defeat, not when I'd come so far._

_Casting around the deck for anything that could be of use, my eyes lit on the cannon on the port side of the vessel. A long shot maybe, but certainly worth a try..._  
**- Guybrush Threepwood: "The Time I Blew Up LeChuck"**

Closing the book quietly, Morgan set it down by her empty bed and crept over to the door, listening carefully. She'd heard Dragotta retire to his room about half an hour ago, an hour after she had supposedly gone to bed herself, but for all she knew he could still be awake. Her tutor's room was on the opposite side of the landing, so it was impossible to listen for his breathing, though Morgan could hear the occasional creak from his mattress so at least he was in bed.

Morgan's own bed had been filled with a few bundles of clothes, to form what looked vaguely like a sleeping figure. Once she'd doused the lamp it would hopefully be enough to fool Dragotta if he happened to look into the room for any reason. Reaching under the bed, Morgan retrieved the sword that she'd bought in the town a few weeks before and belted it around her waist. No sense in going out without taking precautions, even if the weapon did feel far more clumsy than any of the practice swords downstairs. But this one had a sharpened blade, so it would be much more effective if she had to defend herself. She'd considered secretly sharpening one of the practice swords, but on consideration, there had been far too many ways for that to go horribly wrong.

Blowing out the lamp beside her bed, Morgan waited for a few moments so that her eyes could adjust to the sudden darkness, then cautiously moved back to the door and inched it open slowly, careful not to let it make a sound. Stepping out onto the landing, she closed the door silently behind her. The fire in the hearth was almost out, but it provided enough light for her to make out the time on the clock, it was nearly twenty to eleven. With any luck, she'd have cast off from the dock and would be on her way to Scabb Island before the clock struck the hour.

Tiptoeing to the stairs, Morgan took hold of the banister and put as much of her weight on it as she could. Even so, the first step creaked softly beneath her foot and she immediately froze. She waited for almost a minute, but heard no sound from Dragotta's room, and continued her descent with more confidence. At this time of night, the stairs had a habit of creaking by themselves as they settled, so it wasn't as if the noise was unusual.

Nearly halfway down, Morgan had to bite back a curse as another stair creaked and clicked as she set foot on it. This time she waited twice as long before continuing, and though she thought she heard the sound of Dragotta's mattress shifting, his bedroom door didn't open. Breathing out heavily, she wished that she'd thought of taking her boots off first, then continued.

Finally reaching the bottom, Morgan paused again just to make sure she couldn't hear anything. Once she was sure that she couldn't hear any footsteps, she sneaked over to the door, moving silently over the mats. She already had a spare key, and she'd taken the precaution of using some of the lamp oil to lubricate both the lock and the door hinges, so it made no sound as she opened it. Stepping out into the cool night air, Morgan fought the urge to cheer as she locked the door behind her and quickly skipped along the path towards the jetty.

So far things were going better than she'd expected, especially considering that it was the first time she'd tried sneaking out after dark. She'd made it outside without being caught; surely things would only be easier from this point on. Morgan had been planning the excursion for some time, although she'd never been expressly forbidden from leaving the gym at night she doubted that Dragotta would give her permission if she asked. And that would also put him on his guard, because then he'd have been expecting her to try and leave without his knowledge. As long as she was back in a few hours, he'd never know she'd been gone, and Scabb Island was less than an hour away.

Well, Morgan reflected as she reached the dock, less than an hour away if the pilot was halfway competent anyway. Leaping down onto the deck of the _Zanni_, she patted the sloop's prow affectionately. These days Dragotta allowed her to do most of the sailing, though neither of them were in any doubt that this was because Morgan was far better at it than the swordsman. Despite Dragotta's insistence that the ship handled like a pregnant sow, Morgan never had any problems steering it, and could even get the vessel to put on a fair turn of speed, often while her tutor muttered something about ships being as capricious as women. It had certainly amused her uncle when he'd seen her bring the _Zanni_ into the docks at Lucre; the look on Dragotta's face had only gotten darker when Jugbender had suggested that Morgan could give him sailing lessons sometime.

Unfurling the sails, Morgan carefully adjusted them to catch the wind, the faster she could make the journey, the more time she'd have to explore the infamous pirate island. Once she'd set them to her satisfaction, she moved back over to the dock to cast off... only to see a booted foot standing on the post that she ship was moored to. Morgan slowly looked up to see Dragotta standing on the dock, fully dressed and not even out of breath as he leaned down towards her, his expression neutral.

"Might I ask exactly why you're making sail in the dead of night?" Dragotta's voice sounded genuinely curious, but his eyes betrayed his amusement at Morgan's predicament. "It must be very important if you left without telling me..."

Morgan thought fast, she'd been expecting anger and accusations if she was caught, so Dragotta's calm reaction made the protestations and rebuttals that she'd mentally prepared completely useless. Instead, in much the same way as she'd done when she'd first hit him with a practice blade over a year ago, Morgan looked up at him with her most winning expression, the one that always seemed to throw off her sparring partners in class. "I just thought that I'd maybe go visit another island..." Looking down at her feet, she twisted her hands behind herself, trying to look demure. "You never said that I wasn't allowed you know..."

"I take it that's why you never asked?" From the shrewd look on the swordsman's face, Morgan could tell that he wasn't fooled one bit. "Tell me, were you also intending to meet a boy on this other island?"

Morgan scowled before she could stop herself, insulted by the implication. "What, just because I'm a girl I must be going off to meet a boy?" she asked indignantly. "Not because I'm bored of being cooped up here and I want to see some other islands? And I bet you think that this 'boy' asked me to sneak out and meet him too, don't you? Like I..." Her words tailed off as Dragotta began to laugh.

"I believe you," Dragotta chuckled. The girl's outrage certainly proved that she was telling the truth. "But still, I must ask you to desist. Your uncle would not be happy with me if I let you roam the Caribbean alone by night."

Instead of arguing, knowing that it would be futile, Morgan turned back to the _Zanni_ and started to reef the sails. Dragotta didn't say anything, but she could feel him watching her, obviously he was intending to escort her back to the gym, and no doubt also to her room. "I haven't really done anything wrong you know," she called over her shoulder. "Are you still going to punish me?"

"Well, you are technically correct... so no, not this time." Dragotta admitted as Morgan pulled herself back up onto the dock. "That will change should you try this again."

"What if I get permission from my uncle?" Morgan asked, following Dragotta as he headed back along the path.

"Yes, that would be acceptable." Dragotta replied, with a sideways look at the girl. "But do you honestly expect for him to agree?"

"I can take care of myself," Morgan grumbled in response, knowing that Jugbender's answer would be no. "That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"You are here because you wish to learn the art of the blade." Dragotta's voice was sterner now, and Morgan immediately fell silent. "And a considerable part of that art is discipline. You will do as you are told." Glancing at the sword belted at the girl's waist, Dragotta's lip curled slightly. "Besides, were you expecting to defend yourself with **that**?"

Morgan started slightly at her tutor's words; she'd forgotten that she was still wearing the weapon. However, Dragotta still didn't seem angry, instead he sounded disgusted. "Well... what's wrong with it?" she asked, more than a little defensively. Stopping mid-stride, Dragotta held his hand out expectantly. Drawing the sword, Morgan let him take it, hoping that he'd give her it back.

Turning the weapon over in his hands a few times, Dragotta's lip curled even further as he made a few practice cuts with it. "You should have waited and bought one on Lucre instead of Phatt," he informed her shortly. "They might not be known for their swords, but at least they would have sold you one of higher quality."

"How do you know I got it here?" Morgan asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "I could have bought it on Lucre..."

"Because on Lucre they have such a thing as trading standards," Dragotta replied, now sighting along the blade. "Whereas here on Phatt they will sell you a weapon that doesn't even have a straight blade, is poorly balanced, badly constructed and..." Lifting the weapon to his ear, Dragotta flicked the blade with his forefinger and nodded to himself. "...has more tin in it than steel." Reversing his grip on the sword, he handed it back to Morgan and resumed walking. "It might do for fighting pirates, but any swordsman with a blade worth his skills would shear it in half. So be careful who you fight with it."

"You mean I can keep it?" Morgan asked, in some surprise. "Like... on me?"

Reaching the door to the gym, Dragotta held it open for the girl, then closed and locked it behind them. "You will not wear it in this school, nor will you fight with it here." There was a pause as he considered that for a moment. You might want to practice with it though, because the balance is truly terrible. Now back to bed with you."

Although she did as she was told, and she was grateful that Dragotta hadn't confiscated her weapon, Morgan was already revising her plans for the next time she snuck out. She was almost certain it had been the creaking on the stairs that had given her away; she just had to come up with a way to avoid them...

o.o.o.o.o

Morgan tugged hard at the rope that she'd tied to one of the rafters, wanting to make sure that it was secure enough to hold her weight. The knot didn't budge; that might be problematic later when she was trying to untie it, but for now she didn't care. She'd waited nearly a fortnight after her first attempt to sneak out before trying her next idea, hoping that Dragotta would think she'd learned her lesson. She'd lain awake until midnight the previous night to see if he would check on her, but she hadn't heard his footsteps outside the door, and it hadn't been opened.

Since the stairs had been problematic last time, Morgan had decided that missing them out entirely would be a good start. She'd taken some spare rope from the _Zanni_ while Dragotta had been in town and hid it in her room, if Dragotta had noticed it was missing, he hadn't mentioned it. Now that it was tied firmly in place, she carefully spooled it out the open window it was next to, trying to make as little sound as possible. It didn't quite reach the ground, but it was low enough for her to climb back up without any problems. Sitting on the windowsill, Morgan swung her legs over it then reached round to grab the rope and quickly shinned down it to the scrubby grass below.

Landing noiselessly, Morgan headed to the dock with more care this time, her tread almost silent. This time the first thing she did was unmoor the boat and shove off from the short pier, opening the sails as the _Zanni _slowly drifted towards the open sea. She doubted that Dragotta would swim after her if he caught her now, but looking back towards the shore she could see no sign of the swordsman. Maybe she really had sneaked out without his knowledge this time.

Despite that cheering thought, Morgan didn't start congratulating herself until the wind had caught the sloop's sails and Phatt Island was receding into the distance behind her. Glancing up at the stars, she adjusted the tiller accordingly then sat next to it, finally relaxing. Even if Dragotta discovered that she was gone, there was nothing he could do about it now.

o.o.o.o.o

Striding along one of the wooden walkways between the half-sunk, half-buried hulks that formed the town of Woodtick, Morgan tried not to look too out of place. She'd moored the _Zanni _to what was left of the Steamin' Weenie hut out on the beach, and although there had been a few people gathered around a campfire on the sand, they had only glanced in her direction before resuming their conversation. Morgan had heard one of them break into song as she'd headed along the path to the town, but as the lyrics were something about being a pirate on Scabb, she'd guessed that it wasn't aimed at her.

The path had ended, along with the actual island, at a rickety bridge leading to the semi-floating town. The battered 'Welcome to Woodtick' sign was still missing its shovel, and Morgan grinned to herself as she imagined Guybrush taking it. Of course, if she'd been him, she'd then have used it to hit Largo LaGrande and pushed him off the bridge while he was stunned, but she supposed that the terrible voodoo curse that Guybrush had put on the pirate to run him off the island had been even worse. Guybrush might not have written any more books about his further adventures, yet, but he'd never been shy about giving interviews to the broadsheets, and the stack of articles that Morgan had collected now rivalled _The Time I Blew Up LeChuck _in thickness.

Heading into the town proper, if it could be called that, Morgan couldn't stop herself from looking around curiously. She had to admit that it was an interesting way to build a settlement, run a few ships aground by mistake, then crash a few more on the wrecks of the first few until they only sank halfway. There were a few near the shore that were now sunk in silt instead of water, and one or two that looked like they might just be seaworthy... if they actually had any sails to speak of.

Despite her best efforts, Morgan was aware that she was still getting looks from the passers by, all of them scruffy-looking men who she assumed to be pirates. She wasn't sure whether that was down to her age, or due to the fact that her clothes were clean and in decent repair. Although the looks weren't particularly threatening, Morgan didn't like the way their eyes followed her as she walked past, and tightened her grip on her sword nervously. As she did, she realised she hadn't noticed her hand moving to the weapon, and immediately let it go. Dragotta had told her the worst thing she could do in the run up to a fight was look nervous, so she let her arms drop casually to her sides instead. She also tried to tell herself that she wasn't here to fight, but she was well aware that was why she'd come here instead of Booty. Melee was much too far away to get there and back in a night, so if she wanted to duel pirates to hone her skills like Guybrush had done then Scabb was the obvious choice.

Of course, where to find a fight here was the question. She knew that the forked path leading into the forest was the best place to pick a fight on Melee, but that didn't help on Scabb. Figuring that the bar would be the best place to start, Morgan looked for the sign for the _Bloody Lip_ and headed towards it. However, just as she reached the hatch that led down to the bar itself, Morgan heard a loud wolf-whistle off to the side. Given that she couldn't see any other women about, this one was undoubtedly meant for her.

Turning towards the source, one of the larger ships by the shore that was half run aground and half in the water, Morgan saw that she was being watched by a group of pirates lounging around on the stern of the ship, some of them hanging out of the windows of what had once been the captain's quarters. She couldn't help feeling a twinge of intimidation as she realised that there were at least ten of them, and found herself wondering exactly why she'd thought this was a good idea to begin with. Nevertheless, she quickly composed herself; Guybrush had been able to hold his own against the pirates on Melee when he'd only been a year older than she was now. And he wouldn't just have stood there staring at them, he would have had no doubts about challenging all of them at once.

Although she didn't quite swagger, Morgan's pace was measured and confident as she approached the boat, still keeping her hands at her sides. A shaven-headed pirate slouching across the aft rail straightened up as she got closer, muttering something to his companions that made them snigger. From the look he gave her, Morgan was sure that this was the one who'd whistled, and locked gazes with him challengingly. She tried to think of something suitably caustic to say to him, but the pirate spoke first.

"Well, well, well..." Looking Morgan up and down, the pirate sneered. "Little bit young for a street walker, aren't you?"

Feeling a pulse of rage at his words, Morgan nevertheless managed to keep her voice calm, if cutting. "Why do you ask? Can you only get laid when you pay for it or something? Or are you just a child molester?"

The pirate's eyes narrowed as his companions sniggered again, this time at his expense. Straightening up to his full height, which wasn't particularly tall, he glared at the girl. "With a mouth like that, I'm surprised you get paid at all."

"With a face like that, I'm surprised you even have friends." Morgan countered, smirking as the other pirates laughed. The one who'd spoken wasn't particularly ugly, but his weather-beaten face and flat nose could hardly be called handsome. His glare became a glower as Morgan grinned at him impishly. Dragotta could say what he liked about insults, but they certainly still had an effect.

"I think you could do with learning some manners girl," the pirate growled, taking a step back from the rail as if he was going to head down onto the walkway. One of his companions caught his shoulder and pulled him back, shaking his head.

"She's just a girl Jakes. Leave it."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Morgan replied sweetly. "If he wants a fight, he's got one." There was a pause as the entire group looked at her disbelievingly, then a series of snorts and chuckles.

"No offence girly," said the dark-haired pirate who'd intervened. "But, well, if you're too young for a streetwalker then you're definitely too young to fight ol' Jakes here."

"Says who?" Jakes seemed to have lost his anger, but Morgan still didn't like the way he was looking at her. "I'm not going to hurt her... much." There was a grumble of disapproval from his companions at his words, pirates they might have been but they didn't seem impressed by his willingness to fight a teenager.

"Fighting a girl Jakes? Really?" The other pirate seemed just as contemptuous as the rest of their companions. "That's low, even for you."

"Hey, if that's low, then what about getting beaten by a girl?" Morgan called up to them.

Both of them turned to look at her again, Jakes with the same unpleasant look which suggested that he expected to win, and was already planning what to do with her afterwards. However, his companion was now looking at her more closely, taking in her stance and demeanour and noting the sword she was carrying.

"That's what she wants Bart." Jakes said smugly. "Why not let her make her own mistakes."

Glancing at Morgan once more, the pirate called Bart shrugged. "Okay then."

Jakes disappeared almost immediately, then reappeared from the side of the hulk. Now that he was closer, Morgan could get a better look at him, he was taller and much more heavyset than she was, and at least ten years older. And supremely overconfident, which would work to her advantage. Stopping less than two feet away from her, the pirate looked down at her scornfully.

"Give her some room to draw her damn sword," Bart shouted from the ship. Rolling his eyes, Jakes took a few paces backwards. "And if you must fight a girl, at least make it fair."

"What about a bet?" Morgan suggested. "You know, to keep things interesting."

"I'll give you a bet," Jakes sneered. "If I win, you have to kiss me." He ignored the mutters from his companions, even the very audible one from Bart suggesting that Morgan had been right when she'd called him a child molester.

"And if I win?" Morgan asked. "I definitely don't want you to kiss me."

"Then you can have my humility," Jakes replied mockingly. "Will that do?"

"Good enough." With that, Morgan drew her sword, the weapon springing into her hand like lightning despite its unwieldy nature. She heard a ripple of surprise from the pirates, echoed by the look in Jakes' eyes as he drew his own blade with far less grace. Morgan lunged the moment he adopted a fighting stance, and the pirate took a few steps back in surprise, swearing.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Jakes," Bart chortled from the ship. "But weren't you supposed to fight back?"

With a yell of rage, the pirate raised his blade and thrust at the girl, trying to force her back. Instead, Morgan twisted to the side to avoid the blow, her sword sliding downwards to get under Jakes guard then whipping upwards and outwards to catch his weapon and twist it out of his hand. The cutlass described a graceful arc over the pirate's head to land point first in the walkway behind him, quivering from the impact while Jakes stared at his empty hand in shock.

Her blade inches from his throat, Morgan smiled at the pirate charmingly. "I think I'll be taking your humility now, don't you?"

o.o.o.o.o

The sky was growing perceptibly lighter in the east by the time Morgan steered the _Zanni _back to its dock on Phatt Island. Although she hadn't slept all night, and had fought a couple of other pirates who'd started taking her seriously after her insultingly easy win against Jakes, she didn't feel tired in the slightest. It was just as well there were no classes on Sunday mornings because Morgan knew that by the time she finally got to sleep, it would be close to her usual rising time.

She'd beaten both of the other pirates that she'd fought with, and had only stopped fighting because she knew she had to get back to Phatt before Dragotta got up. Her other opponents had been more challenging than Jakes, but still easy compared to fighting Dragotta. Heck, even some of her fellow students were harder to beat than the pirates had been. Despite that, Morgan still intended to go back the next time she sneaked out, there had been mutters about other pirates who'd supposedly be able to beat her with ease, but she hadn't had time to go looking for any of them. If she went back, maybe they'd save her the trouble and come looking for her instead.

Heading back towards the gym once she was satisfied that the _Zanni_ looked like it had spent the night in its usual place, Morgan realised that she couldn't see the rope hanging from her window. Maybe it was just hard to spot in the dark. Maybe the knot had come loose... though how, she had no idea. As she reached the wall beneath her bedroom window, she found the rope lying in a heap on the ground. Its end had been cleanly sliced through, so it hadn't come loose. No, it had been discovered instead.

With a long sigh, Morgan decided it would be best to get it over with, and trudged over to let herself in by the front door. She wouldn't be hearing the end of this one for a while.


End file.
